One second, Gates’ fireteams were cut off, pinned down by expertly aimed gunfire from further up the trenches, Republic Commandos sending waves of gunfire at the Blackjacks attempting to move forwards.
The next, half of them disappeared, the only warning a short, screaming whistle that followed a loud thump - the sound of a tank firing. Gates peeked out of cover long enough to see a slightly damaged tank cresting the hill from Eclipse’s previous position. The cannon traversed, and Gates could see a man in battered white armor sitting astride the commander’s seat. The man appeared to be yelling, and Gates could barely pick out the words -
I’m here to save the day, Gates!“Unbelievable,” Garryll declared as the tank fired again, exterminating another few of the attacking commandos. “They stole a tank.”
“Yes sir, appears to be that way,” agreed Lightray, unable to keep a grin from his voice. “What an entrance.”
The remaining Commandos and assorted other Republican soldiers had to split their attention between the two forces now, both pressing hard. Eclipse troopers that weren’t crewing the tank were using it as mobile cover as it began its advance, dealing death every twelve seconds when it spoke.
Gates could feel the excitement of his troopers; they had this mission almost complete. Nothing that the Republic soldiers could throw at them would be enough. Screams echoed where cannon shells landed and threw broken men like dolls into the air, limbs shattered or with massive concussive injuries.
“Fix bayonets,” Gates barked, feeling like an officer of millennium ago at the ancient order. “And let’s get this done.”
His fireteam scooted around the corner, but failed to draw fire from the now-beleaguered Republican forces. Gates put his back to the trench wall to ensure it totally covered him, and again peered over the trench’s lip. The Republican forces were doing their best to try and combat all three Phoenix advances, but they were falling quickly to gunfire from three different directions, and still hadn’t located an answer to the tank.
Gates shrugged his rifle up and fired a bust at a soldier’s exposed leg. A couple rounds took the man, but the Republic man stoically bore the pain and tried to return fire at Gates position. Lightray crowed victory once again as his shots tore the injured man apart, his light flak armor insufficient to halt the stream of slugs that thudded into his chest. Gates gestured for Fear to keep up the suppressing fire on the small group of men while he and Lightray moved further up the trench to get a better shot.
Gates led the younger soldier down the trench. The SL considered the man baptized by battle already, and felt comfortable enough having Lightray watch his back.
Once again, they peeked over the trench and finally had a good shot. Gates brought his rifle up to his shoulder and aimed. Beside him, Lightray did the same. Gates set his eye next to the rifle scope and opened up. The flash at the barrel of his rifle was blunted by the darkened lenses of his shooter’s glasses. Lightray began firing a split second later, and the Republican soldiers, caught out of good cover, had no choice but to sit and die.
“Move it up, Fear!” Garryll barked. They were nearly at the main trench ‘highway’ and Gates wanted to advance as soon as possible, while the Republic forces were still off-balance.
Valthir and is fireteam rounded their corner, looking little worse for the wear. Above them, Eclipse traded heavy fire with the Republic soldiers, and the tank fired again and again, leveling sandbag emplacements and crushing their enemies’ resistance.
“This is it, Blackjacks,” Gates spoke calmly. “One hundred meters and then we’re there. We take the colonel alive. Everyone else dies. Let’s get it done.”
Gates slapped the clip-release on his rifle and felt the weapon lighten as the nearly-empty magazine fell from his weapon. He pulled a new one, fat with brass slugs, from his belt and slipped it into the rifle. The tiny yellow digits flashed from 00 to 60 and pulsed dimly. Around him, the rest of Blackjack was reloading or checking their remaining weapons. Gates closed his eyes briefly and exhaled slowly.
“Let’s move.”
*** *** *** *** ***
The trench was designed for rapid movement of troopers towards the outer levels of the trench defense. It hastened the movement of men, matériel and messengers when runners were needed. Unfortunately, its greatest strength also foretold its greatest weakness. If the outer defenses were ever overcome or overrun, it was a simple matter to storm the command-and-control center right down the defense’s spine.
A half-dozen men in battered white-and-red armor sprinted down the trench, rifles at the ready. No gunfire found them; none was fired. The soldiers who would have held this critical artery of the defense were dead or fighting for their lives against the second hammer blow.
Garryll Gates’ breath came in short puffs as he led his squad in a charge towards the nearing command center and their final target. Fifty meters; forty; thirty; twenty; ten. A small checkpoint of sandbags was unmanned, its inhabitants dead or gone. Gates’ stride cleared it without slowing, and behind him, the rest of Blackjack vaulted the low obstacle without trouble.
They burst into the Command center, weapons raised and tracking for targets. One man stood in olive-and-khaki camo patterns, a few red dots of rank insignia at his throat. Gates shifted his aim from that man and blew a hole in an aide standing next to him, hand pulling a blaster pistol from his belt. The Blackjacks let loose, their precise semi-automatic rounds slaughtering the unarmored command personnel. A handful of combat troopers tried to raise their rifles, but they were cut down as mercilessly as their comrades. Gates’ gun jammed as he let loose his fourth shot, and he tossed it away, yanking the heavy revolver from his belt and taking two long steps towards the colonel.
The colonel was dark-haired and unshaven, his eyes darkened by lack of sleep and anger. Slow to react but reacting, his fist was gripped tight around a blaster pistol that he was trying to raise. Gates’ left hand gripped the wrist of the gun-hand and his right shot up to aim at the colonel’s head, only to have
his hand seized in desperate vice and halted before it could reach his intended position. The two men struggled silently as Blackjack finished crushing all resistance.
Gates’ hand wobbled as he fought for control of both guns, and his revolver began to raise. The dark-haired Republican’s teeth shone bright as sweat poured down his face. Gates pulled the trigger.
The .45 caliber slug shattered the Republic officer’s shin and sent him tumbling to the ground, paralyzed by the pain of his maimed limb. Gates took the opportunity to break the man’s right hand, combat boot stomping his gun hand until the fingers let go of the weapon.
“Mission accomplished. Fear, secure this man and get him ready for evac. Valthir, Lightray, see if you can transmit the battle plans, comm channels and any other useful intel to Havock to pass on to the garrison forces,” Gates said. Fear moved forwards, zip-tie cuffs in his hands. Valthir and Lightray moved to the command consoles. Gates waved for the rest of the squad to secure the area and opened a comm channel to the LAAT. “Isen. We’ve secured the package, and are requesting exfil.”
“Roger that. Eclipse has punched a big hole, and we’ll make this LZ wide enough to land. ETA for LZ is two minutes. Get into position by then.”
“Roger that, Chief,” Gates said. “Wrap this up. The colonel’s got a date with Phoenix intel and can’t afford to miss it.”
- OOC:
- Mission complete - capture colonel. It can end here, or someone can write us taking him to the rendezvous with the LAAT.
